


Not Entirely Useless

by softjohn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Chicken Noodle Soup, Fluff, Grumpy Arthur, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, No Spoilers, Season 1, Sick Arthur, i mean is that any different from usual arthur, of the pointless variety, or thereabounts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softjohn/pseuds/softjohn
Summary: When Prince Arthur falls ill, Merlin - being the dedicated, attentive, best-ever manservant that he is, concocts an extremely rare and complex cure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the comic 'blerg' by Ice Cream Sandwich comics on Tumblr. See it here: http://icecreamsandwichcomics.com/post/153913310764/blerg-full-image-twitter-bonus

‘Ughh... _Why_...Why me...’ came a near-intelligible groan, hoarse, muffled, layered with tones of suffering and petulance. 'Isn't being ill a thing that only happens to peasantry?'

Merlin spared a glance to the mound of silken bedsheets hiding His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Heir to the Throne of Camelot, master swordsman, arrogant prat, and currently brought low by a particularly nasty infection. Gaius had raised an eyebrow which, in Merlin’s eyes, had been most definitely amused, and pronounced rest to be the best cure.

Arthur was not happy with that diagnosis.

‘Oh, pack it in, Arthur,’ Merlin replied with a shake of his head. He was slightly less acerbic than usual - having seen the messy mop of hair which was the only part of Arthur visible to the naked eye, it was hard not to be - but, nonetheless, showing Arthur sympathy was an unprecedented action for Merlin. As such, exasperation was the only remaining option.

Arthur replied to this with a petulant whine, which Merlin would  _definitely_ remember later, for decidedly nefarious purposes. 

Of course, Merlin could’ve cured Arthur with barely a thought. But it was fairly evident to him that everyone, including - most markedly - Uther, would probably notice a miraculous healing. Merlin would really prefer not to be beheaded. If anything, he’d like to avoid that course of action entirely. By a wide berth. And if his common sense hadn’t been enough, Gaius’s Eyebrow of Doom would have knocked sense into him.

Arthur let out a mangled noise somewhere between a groan and a shriek. Merlin, wincing, pressed his fingers to his temple and thought with ill grace that if  _Gaius_ had been the one tasked with caring for Arthur, he would’ve been much more sympathetic.

‘ _Mer_ lin!’ came Arthur’s muffled shout. ‘More water!’

His capacity for yelling would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so  _irritating_.

Merlin sighed.

Right. He hadn’t wanted to resort to this, but he was a  _fantastic_ manservant, dammit, and if Arthur didn’t properly appreciate him after this he’d smack it into his overinflated head. 

‘I’ll be right back,’ Merlin announced, making his way to the door and blithely ignoring Arthur’s bark of ‘ _Remember to actually bring the water this time, idiot!’_

Barely five minutes later - well alright, maybe it was more like ten,  _maybe_ fifteen - Merlin returned to Arthur’s room.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Arthur snapped. Merlin looked over just in time to see his head pop out from his shell of blankets, his eyes screwed up as if the single lamp was actually the sun teleported into his chambers (interesting idea, that), his nose tinged red, colour high on his cheeks. 

‘Helping you out, you prat,’ Merlin replied, covering his momentary mind-blank. Determinedly not thinking of why, exactly, he’d been temporarily struck dumb, Merlin hefted the clay mug in his hands. ‘I bring a very rare, extremely complex healing ichor!’ he announced. It was very difficult to keep a straight face. ‘A brew to cure all ailments! A potion to cure your illness!’ As he spoke he wended his way to Arthur’s side, who peered warily at the container.

‘Is that something of Gaius’s making?’ he asked. ‘I don’t trust you not to poison me with your abysmal skills.’

‘ _No_ ,’ Merlin said with a dimpled grin, sitting on the bed beside Arthur. ‘Actually, I did make this. But I’ve been making it since I was a child, so you can trust it.’ He tilted it slightly so that Arthur could squint at the liquid inside.

‘Is that…chicken broth?’ 

Merlin grinned wider. ‘Yeah, with these things called noodles which my mum learned about from a merchant passing through the village. She always used to make it when I was sick.’ He looked down at the broth. ‘It might be a little different, though…I feel like I forgot something, and I couldn’t really get hold of the proper onions this far north-’

‘Oh, stop blathering and give it to me,’ Arthur ordered, distinctly irascible. Merlin huffed a little but complied, and Arthur’s arm emerged from his cocoon to take the container. He sniffed at it carefully – apparently serious about the ‘poisoning’ complaint – before taking a hesitant sip.

There was a long pause.

‘This is alright,’ Arthur muttered. ‘Maybe you aren’t entirely useless.’

Restraining a cough, he buried his face in the mug. He appeared so entirely miserable that Merlin couldn’t help patting his head once or twice. ‘There, there. You’ll be better before you know it.’ Much to his surprise, Arthur didn’t stab him even a little for touching his hair. Instead he made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a sigh and continued to sip at the broth, his eyes shut. Merlin therefore continued his movements, careful of the tangles in Arthur’s wild blonde hair.

Merlin reflected that this hadn’t really ended up being so terrible after all.

  

**Author's Note:**

> :-)


End file.
